"impacted" poems
Red as the blood gushing from her wrist.
Purple from the bruises on her body as the beating
Green is her eyes yet she doesn't want to see
Yellow is her body from the **** her father impacted her
Red,purple,green,yellow
She wishes that she had a normal life
Red,purple,green,yellow
Her body aches for love, as when her father whispers "I love you babe" she cries
Red,purple,green,yellow
Her mother calls her fat and ugly while she beats her
Red,purple,green,yellow
She slits her wrists while she cries
Red,purple,green,yellow
Shes now dead as she was hanging by a thread
~A.E.G.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
I never knew what caused the truck to crash into our car that morning. Perhaps it was the rain and the road was slippery, perhaps it was yet again another case of “do not drink and drive”, or perhaps the man behind the wheel was not at all to blame, and that it was the fault of the engines.
The crash and screech of metal on metal was deafening. It happened so fast and when I woke, I looked to my side and saw a face I knew so well, except this time I could not see her beautiful features; her skin was covered in blood, like red paint splashed onto a plain white canvas. And in the red I could see glistening shards of glass, like diamonds proud to have finally found an owner. Then I heard in the distance, voices and shouts. I could not make out the words they were saying, as if I was trying to hear someone underwater. I looked up outside the window, and there stood a man shouting at me, a foreign face. I feel my tiny figure being carried out of the car window, as the door decided it would not open.
We waited on the terrace of an old lady’s house for help to come. The shock made me feel numb and so I just sat quietly, with the cry of my nanny in the background, her body hugging my sister and my mother, who are unconscious and have yet to know what had happened.
Then, I did not how, but I arrived at the hospital where I saw my dad run past me into the room. I remember mostly the smell of disinfectant and finding little pieces of glass in my hair.
I lost my ability to speak for a few days after the incident, and I feel now that it impacted me more than I thought it did.
The shock and horror are no longer, but it is strange now to remember what had happened. When I close my eyes and recall the accident, some details are so vivid and clear. Yet at the same time, I feel as though it all never happened, like it was some sort of false memory implanted in my head for no apparent reason.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
i hope you get into medical school
so all i have to do is eat an apple everyday
i hope you always have money to buy extra bread-sticks
but never the self control stop eating them
i hope your 15 seconds of fame falls on daylight savings
i hope you never avoid movie or tv spoilers
i hope your children are loved and cared for
but have their hearts broken by mine
i hope you always anticipate a surprise birthday party
i hope you always wake well rested
3 hours late for work
i hope you dance in the metaphoric rain
and catch metaphoric pneumonia
i hope your next thanksgiving is spent in an airport
i hope you are mildly inconvenienced every morning
i hope all your book pages stick together
i hope that you always will question if you left your oven on
i hope your future roommates always use all the hot water
i hope you always find the words to say
but never the right time to say them
i hope you never figure out how to pick a ripe avocado
i hope all your dinners are directly impacted
by the fickle nature of a toaster oven
i hope your curiosity gets the better of you
and you find out what cat food tastes like
i hope your favorite band breaks up
and you miss their kick *** reunion tour
i hope you watch an unhealthy amount of daytime tv
i hope you outlive me on the off chance that your paper boy will miraculously skip your house on the day my obituary is printed
because nothing would make my ghost happier to know
that you were forced to find out after literally everyone else that
i passed away in my sleep surrounded by people who loved me
while you sat in your house old grey never thinking of me until you
read some 50 words in a newspaper and even if its for a second i want you to wonder what kind of life i had because you will have had no part in it.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
Life has many milestones.
Each bringing a significant change to one's life.
Whether that be a birthday, a wedding, a child.
But it's difficult to admit the sadder milestones that we carry with us.
However these negative moments also have a significant effect on us.
This is my list of milestones I hate to admit.
But they have impacted me tramendously.
It's time I released them so I can look ahead.
Molested by a boy at age 4.
Countlessly ***** by my sister starting at age 5.
***** by my therapist at age 7.
Beat by my sister throughout childhood.
Bribed and verbally abused by my step father to condition me to keep my issues to myself.
Traumatized at 10 by my father and his ex due to a domestic abuse situation.
Almost drowned from my first public panic attack at age 16.
Harassed by a man at a concert at age 20.
Endured the hell that relationships always bring.
Attempted suicide twice at age 21.
And a man attempted to **** me at a party last week while I was intoxicated.
I know I'm not the only one with these difficult memories.
And knowing I'm not alone will always be my comfort.
But I'm letting it all out;
purging out the evil so I can be releaved.
And now my hope is to heal and become whole again in the healthiest way possible.
I can overcome these milestones.
I know I can.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
The darkness of secrets had kept me in shadows
The pain of the past had caused my family to weep
For they experienced life full of unjust woes!
Yet the Heavenly Lord has awakened me from sleep.
I hear the echoes of my forefathers’ voices,
They tell me to rise like the Mighty Sun,
It is time for me to wake and rejoice
On their legacy of what they have done.
The wise wind of fate pushes me to my destiny,
My blood burns with a new determination
As I am resurrected with a new identity
For my forefathers have impacted the entire nation
For many years I thought I was ordinary
Yet the cries of my ancestors beat like a drum-
Telling me to soar like a golden dragon.
In love and hate we have all endured and succumb
I give thanks to the heavenly divine sky
As he has given me a gift of armor made of courage.
“Awake my dear daughter”, the mighty Lord cry,
“Do not let the army of fear make you feel discourage.”
So the wind of destiny has revealed its plan
That I am to inherit their legacy,
Reclaim the throne and be the Princess of Han
For this is my destiny!
(c) 2018 Joanne Chang
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
To the two girls who are now dating the two boys that have impacted my life in ways I can't begin to describe:
I beg of you... treat them better than I did
Respect them, never do anything to hurt them
They can make you smile in seconds, and they trust you immensely
Don't break their trust, it's hard for them to rebuild
They've been through a lot, so be careful
Don't yell, communicate
They're the sweetest boys you'll ever meet,
Please don't break them
They may not be mine anymore
But I don't want you to hurt them
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 12:24 AM UTC
"Dawn"
I wonder where the prayers went...after years spent sitting in the darkness looking for a change that never came...it never came...and...
Where Is My Diamoonnnd!!!!???
All I Have is coal...
And why....
Why can't I have 3 wishes at least?...
Because change never came...it never came...
Only the Storm remained.
But when being present was a requirement, there transpired a lucid calm...
Mmm...
If only it could be grasped like bed sheets the night the Storm was conceived...
Oh I wish those knees could have been broken!!!...
So they wouldn't have opened to receive...seed...or conceive...
Forgive me..
I pray for a mime to be a fly on the wall of these thoughts!!
I pray the clouds part so the sun can shine and you find rest..
Because....
Everything's better when you are asleep...
Suffering through your Own nightmares...
What happened to the maternal instinct purposed to protect you, nurture you to a point of functionality?
Is there such thing as functional with you?...
Or
Did you wear out your place of origin to where you're no longer sought for or welcomed?
Was it a joy to desert such a never ending storm?
Is there no remorse?
Not for your abandonment...but for society...
No thought for the trail of derailed strangers who will never forget the name of the tornadic soul who impacted them tragically...?
Tragic....
Your calms last long enough to fall in love with the beauty in between..and it is so beautiful.
But...
Not long enough to prepare for your next season...and...
Why.....
Why won't you learn to warn your lovers?
So they may brace for...
Dawn...
Oh...
But...wait...
Look...
The sun...
The sun is coming...
The heavens still love me...
So...
Since the sun is out,
I love you...
Sweet dreams.
~Say Dat~
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC
her skin is jaundiced, quite like the color of the sky before a storm
if you look at her long enough you can almost smell the rain on her skin.
her ribs are not unlike the rungs of a ladder.
once delicate fingers have been burned at the touch of acid and bones have been made brittle.
her nails are jagged, each impacted with crescent moons of soil.
the digging is ceaseless.
she is searching for something she will never find, something that beacons like a lighthouse on the horizon
a sign of safety but blinding when you try to take a closer look.
she slinks along the edge of an unremitting chasm,
dancing with the devil throughout the evening,
but the night draws on and she comes dangerously close to stepping on his toes.
her rhythm is wrong, the metronome is feeding her lies,
but she is greedy and devours them all.
the gnawing inside her returns.
to sleep she goes, under the spell of the guilt washing over her like the sweet, sticky air of the summer, as the gnawing inside takes over.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
I think every night of you, my sweet
the one we'll always remember,
you will never know, what you have proved
and to you i am so grateful.
the high degree day, is what i think of,
the day we heard you had left us.
but not behind. You left to save another
some one needed your smile, your giggle.
though i did not know your favourite film or favourite colour,
your smile impacted my day,
and well, if i believe in that smile
I believe we could have been close.
So don't worry my dear, when i think of you, i shall smile.
just like we did when we passed each other during our days.
you are One of a Kind and you left your mark
And for that daily smile, my sweet. I am grateful.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
cosmic dust.. blowing in the wind
that's what we are.
remains and debris of impacted rock
that clutters and piles meaningless and purposeless.
just until the moment of gravity or some god-like force
accumulates the lifeless rock and dust into larger objects of mass.
what is formed is just a glimmer, a speck in the whole universe.
a tiny cog in a gigantic network of gadgets and machines.
that is us...
and then Jobs told us to go make a dent in it all…
go and make your mark… and follow your heart
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
a battle ensued
across the skies
meteors and comets
impacted
upon each other
fierce were the explosions
a trembling quake
rolled through the planetary spheres
neutrons and protons
collided
monstrous and massive
destruction
befell the galaxies
which were ******
into the battle's vortex
combustible fires flared
burning for millions of years
the war didn't abate
the kinetic energy
compelled
more
devastation
catastrophe
lasted
until
eternity
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 7:18 AM UTC
Long ago, a Savior was born
and hidden within a humble birth;
covered with the cloak of humanity,
His presence impacted this earth.
Although we remember His birthday,
know that Christ is no longer a child;
He stopped being an infant, who was…
helpless, quiet, tender and mild.
He grew in strength and wisdom;
He demonstrated His holy authority;
He lived as He divinely taught;
He set the example, for you and me.
He gave of Himself completely
and paid the ultimate sacrifice.
He embodied God’s covenant of love;
His actions were timely and precise.
After suffering the shame of crucifixion,
He was briefly buried in a rock-hewn tomb;
three days later, He triumphantly exited
with a glorified body from Resurrection’s womb.
Today He lives and sovereignly rules;
so people of faith, it’s time to agree
that we must continue to live Godly lives,
seeing that… the manger is still empty!
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 1:18-2:15, 27:46-54; Acts 2:22-24; Heb 7:25;
1 John 2:1-2; Rom 8:34
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 5:58 AM UTC
Twists and turns
Learning to check my speed along each curve
So much about myself I come to find is -
actually another thing.
The little neurons , moving about
so hyperactively
that it drives me into half a day of rest
or otherwise
What have I done those moments I have impacted them
whether by a blow from the fist or the nostrils
So much has changed
no longer do I indulge in the dangers of drugs
only the safe ones that help my physical pain
Slowly learning- but not before I'm ruined , to keep my hands off myself
As not to damage what sanity I have left .
Which fortunately, Is more than I could have based on the past decade
but unfortunately, some pieces of this puzzle of a young woman are missing-
That is okay, I guess the colors in between and I scribble underneath
I play a guessing game until my loved ones remind me of the truth
When they know it
Will I Always be searching for the corners to complete it?
I really don't care much for whole complete pictures anyways
Always folding photos to hide the faces of those who wronged me, crumbling unfinished pieces of art before wondering what I could add, only to replace it with another one .
Guess it doesn't matter- though when I dig through old memories, there are some things I find that surprise me.
How much we change year to year, throughout a lifetime as people? Is it more or less person to person based on our experience?
Nov 3, 2021
Nov 3, 2021 at 8:01 PM UTC
Failing class because I'm distracted
Impacted by your body extracted
Mine reacted with you.
There was nothing I could do.
There was nothing I could do.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Slumbering on and off
I must have dozed into a side street
My memory on a go slow
Having vacated the premises
Beads rolled and filled the gaps
Settling into the spaces in my head
Overflowing into folds of the pillow
Their circular bodies probing my cheeks
Pulling faces at me in disturbance
The light switch to my brain remained off
The beads multiplied, the pillow
Like a giant bead bean bag
Impacted its air bag mode
Wham....I was awake
Not knowing for a moment quite what day it was
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 6:06 AM UTC
Long ago, a Savior was born
and hidden within a humble birth;
covered with the cloak of humanity,
His presence impacted this earth.
Although we remember His birthday,
know that Christ is no longer a child;
He stopped being an infant, who was…
helpless, quiet, tender and mild.
He grew in strength and wisdom;
He demonstrated His holy authority;
He lived as He divinely taught;
He set the example, for you and me.
He gave of Himself completely
and paid the ultimate sacrifice.
He embodied God’s covenant of love;
His actions were timely and precise.
After suffering the shame of crucifixion,
He was briefly buried in a rock-hewn tomb;
three days later, He triumphantly exited
with a glorified body from Resurrection’s womb.
Today He lives and sovereignly rules;
so people of faith, it’s time to agree
that we must continue to live Godly lives,
seeing that… the manger is still empty!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 1:18-2:15, 27:46-54; Acts 2:22-24; Heb 7:25;
1 John 2:1-2; Rom 8:34
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
how easily, naturally
as kids we spilled our
hearts out to each other
i was with you then
in my closet, to get
away from our parents.
flashlight in front, hearts
in our hands.
i told you everything,
before forming the
questions i had for you.
i gave you everything,
hoping it wasn’t too much.
we spent nights situated
on top of those words,
wondering how it impacted.
how each other felt after.
as an adult, i feel
overwhelmed, out of
reach. childlike wonders
cease me as my vices
replace me.
where’s my childlike
wonder? buried in my
hands, where i crushed
my heart? or in my chest
where you placed yours?
so i searched. and as
naturally, easily as i
remembered, i spilt my
heart out on pen, and slid
it to you with a heart
embroidered on the side.
hoping it wasn’t too much.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
Have you ever been impacted by the feminine vocals of this plight of legalistic acquittal?
Let us travel northbound along those east coast beeches where the historical presence is tangible and innocent sexuality is exposed in oyster-bars of cobbled awareness.
Acknowledge the fragrance of the hanging-basket in English country gardens, where nectar is extracted by nocturnal mammals.
Do you have any suggestions about the outcome?
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
for Thomas Raine Crowe
...These nights bring dreams of Cherokee shamans
whose names are bright verbs and impacted dark nouns,
whose memories are indictments of my pallid flesh...
and I hear, as from a great distance,
the cries tortured from their guileless lips, proclaiming
the nature of my mutation.
NOTE: My “mutation” is that my family appears to contain English, Scottish, German and Cherokee blood, meaning that my ancestors were probably at war with each other. Did my English ancestors force my Cherokee ancestors to walk the Trail of Tears?
I have recently created these new translations of Native American poems, proverbs and sayings ...
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of a winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
—Blackfoot saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
Speak less thunder, wield more lightning. — Apache proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The more we wonder, the more we understand. — Arapaho proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Adults talk, children whine. — Blackfoot proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Don’t be afraid to cry: it will lessen your sorrow. — Hopi proverb
One foot in the boat, one foot in the canoe, and you end up in the river. — Tuscarora proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Our enemy's weakness increases our strength. — Cherokee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
We will be remembered tomorrow by the tracks we leave today. — Dakota proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
No sound's as eloquent as a rattlesnake's tail. — Navajo saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
The heart is our first teacher. — Cheyenne proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Dreams beget success. — Maricopa proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Knowledge interprets the past, wisdom foresees the future. — Lumbee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The troublemaker's way is thorny. — Umpqua proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC
I didn’t know you
but I know you.
You were
a rebel.
It was in your veins.
You wore a leather jacket,
leather boots.
You’d walk down the street with
a purpose.
You never cared what they thought.
The roar of the engine
would bring a smile to your face.
You loved everything about it.
The rumble
and the low-slug feel of the seat.
You loved
the rush of wind in your face,
the feeling of being free and in control of life.
Your destination never mattered.
It was the trip you enjoyed.
Once you got a taste of freedom,
you became addicted.
Always seeking for excitement.
You searched for new places,
new people,
new things.
Explored.
Discovered.
Learned.
You did it all.
You cared for your family,
your friends.
Her.
I know you
loved her.
I could feel it,
see it,
sense it
when she entered the room.
I didn’t even see her right away
but I knew something was different.
I knew you were there
with her,
with us.
It was the first time I met her
but I knew who she was.
She entered with a purpose.
Just like you.
The way she stood.
The way she talked.
The look in her eyes.
Her presence.
Just like you.
The more I talked to her
the more I saw you.
It hurt listening to her.
She was in love with you.
I could hear it in her voice.
You’ve been gone for a while
but you impacted so many people.
I wish I was one of those people.
I miss you,
even though I never met you.
Your life betrayed you.
You were no longer in control.
The end came too soon.
You were too good for this world.
I didn’t know you
but I know you.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
we’re hipster lovers with our
baggy sweaters and tortoise-rimmed
glasses.
your choice in music is too cool,
i gobble up literature like oreo milkshakes.
we’re hipster lovers
with our admiring Blake,
your multi-colored jeans, my eyeliner
thick and sharp.
you’re the hipster boy with unruly hair,
and cool as a cucumber temper.
i’m the hipster girl cool with too much sadness and
a fetish with Plath.
we make an awkward, cute team, you and i.
i’ll borrow your drug impacted jumper,
if you keep reading me zen poetry,
and we can dawdle inside indie
coffee shops while we hold
hands and sip
slowly.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
I'll write a letter
To those who matter
Because, though I won't be there to see
I want to imagine the faces of those
Who I'm not writing to.
I'll write a note to him because he still intrigues me
It'll be a cowardly note that says everything I couldn't
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins,
I'll pray he didn't care for me
I'll pray it doesn't hurt him
Because he doesn't deserve it.
I'll write a note to her because she's his
And he's hers and that still hurts me somedays
And because I love her like I love him:
In a million, million ways.
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
I'll pray she's enough to get him to stay
I'll pray she doesn't care so she'll be okay.
I'll write a note to her because she birthed me
And I'll explain the importance of contraception
And I'll tell her I don't blame her and give absolution
And then take it back in the next sentence.
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
I'll pray she hurts until she can barely breath
In the same breath, I'll pray she forgets me
And uses the rest of her life to be as free as she wanted to be.
I'll write a note to him because he's my sister
And I'll explain the way I hate him and do hate him
And I'll explain the way I never stopped feeling the rage
Of every single wrong he did me over the years
And then I'll forgive him because he doesn't need me to
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
That he'll understand the simplicity and importance of tact
I'll pray that he gets everything he wants in life
I'll pray he understands why I couldn't wish that
While there was still air in my lungs.
I'll write a note to him because I hate him and I love him
And it'll explain the way child abuse lingers for years
And it'll say how much I wanted to see his grave before my own
And it'll say how I never wanted to see anyone live forever besides him
And it'll explain how he hurt me by withholding unconditional love
It will explain how little I cared after the first decade crept by
And I'll cross my fingers when I open my veins
And I'll turn over to pray
I'll pray he gets what he's due
I'll pray he finally dies
I'll pray he gets some happiness
And I'll do it all in one word: Why?
Those are the notes I'd write.
No one else I'd explain to.
Those are the people who've impacted my life.
If I keep death bare and simple.
I'm not crying this time.
I'm not just on the brink, about to go
I'll think, just as I always do
But there's no indecision anymore.
This is not a place I want to be
Not a life I want to live
But I still have a single ambition
I've still got one last wish.
So I'll do it.
I can be my own shooting star.
I'll get that last dream done
And open a vein? Or step in front of a car?
When I'm done with that I'll write a will
Containing three items:
Burn all my stories and poetry, delete my existence
Cremate my body, funerals are too expensive.
Be honest in my death, express your abhorrence.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
Like a leaf falling unknowingly towards a blade of grass…
I impacted at dawn with the sound of a faded smash…
Invaded by reality, my brain whipped up a list of tasks..
But I quickly yawned it off in favor of dreams from the past…
How nice is it to retire to a place of wonder and passion…
When your days are filled with pondering your squandered rations…
A place away from heartache in a land of exotic fashions…
Strange tales of horror mixed with ****** interactions..
What a world it is that our dreams create…
Even giving glimpses of a future face..
Or maybe a real story from a future place..
Of guts and glory from earth or space…
They open Pandora’s box of ideas and images..
But unlike life, the dream diminishes…
Like the feeling of love lost with sleepy grimaces..
And the attack on your foe that’s lost it’s viciousness..
The ability to be in one place then instantly in the next…
The thought of how you got there never leaves you perplexed…
It just is what it is like the characters in this text…
Images of prisoners that your subconscious collects…
Lined up next to each other, depicting events…
Comedies, dramas, love stories, and suspense…
The feeling of realism is just so intense…
The horror is horrifying and the fortunes are immense…
That’s why I love these stories my brain invents…
So now I’m off to catch tonight’s main events…
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 2:00 AM UTC